Kryptonite
by Kairou Watoshimi
Summary: He was spiraling, spiraling out of control.


**A quick, experimental fic that I finally found the motivation to write. Hunt's thoughts about the ending of the third date but there are minor spoilers for the fourth date.**

 **Kryptonite**

Running his fingers over his bruised knuckles, Thomas winced as he went over a particularly sore spot. It had been _hours_ since the incident but he could still feel the sharp ache from the impact. More than that, however, the feeling of Jane's smaller, trembling body was still so vividly etched into his own, it was almost as if she was still wrapped up in his embrace.

 _He_ was the one trembling now, as his mind replayed the incident over and over and _over_ again.

— _something like a hurricane coursing through his veins_ —

Despite his temper, Thomas was the calm of the storm. Even if his entire world was falling down around him, he had the capacity to step back, analyze the situation, _and_ come up with the solution. Fist clenching and unclenching, he stared unseeingly at the empty chair occupied by Jane only hours before. A pulse of pain shot up his hand when he clenched a little too tightly but Thomas only gritted his teeth and ignored it.

— _his world was nothing but red_ —

That was not him.

That _cannot_ be him.

Thomas Hunt was not one to be so easily influenced by someone who was a little more than a child. Thomas Hunt did not allow for his emotions to dictate his actions. But most importantly, Thomas Hunt did not get into physical brawls with children half his age.

— _the feeling of satisfaction from the echoing_ crack—

All over a girl.

 _Not just_ any _girl,_ his traitorous mind whispered. _Jane._

Thomas sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth but it wasn't enough. For a single, horrifying moment, it almost felt as if he couldn't breathe. He could feel the prickling feeling of cold sweat on the back of his neck even as he struggled to get air into his lungs. _Deep breaths,_ he thought to himself. _Breathe._

Before Jane, getting himself involved in unnecessary physical confrontations was unheard of. If it had been anyone else, he would have just pulled them away from the situation. But since it was Jane—

— _only_ Jane—

" _We all have our weaknesses... and you're mine, Jane."_

— _always_ Jane—

It was a shocking—almost horrifying—realization for him to notice how much he had actually changed since her arrival in his life. Like a whirlwind—

—a clash of thunder—

—a flash of lightning—

He could barely remember a time before Jane, he suddenly realized, his breath catching in his throat again. _Breathe,_ he reminded himself. _Breathe._ Life had always been simple; he got along with his fellow colleagues and even if they always been slightly afraid of him, his students had always respected him. But...

 _But..._

Before Jane, what had been the _spark_ in his life? Their banter, which had more or less become a sort of routine was what _fueled_ his blood. Though he would never admit it, matching wits with Jane had quickly become one of the few highlights of his day.

He had only known her for a couple months and already, he couldn't imagine his day without her. And not only that but she was making him act in ways that was completely out of character. He was Thomas Hunt and he does not allow emotions to dictate his actions. He was Thomas Hunt and he does not get into a fist fights over a girl. But now...

Now...

Who _was_ he, now?

 _Out of control,_ Thomas thought. He was _completely and utterly_ out of control. And all because of Jane.

—only Jane—

Jane was a weakness. _His_ weakness.

—always Jane—

Thomas had been in love before but never— _never_ —had his world been so thoroughly flipped all due to a single individual. Not Priya, not Marianne, not even Yvonne. He always had a strong sense of individuality; he knew who he was, he knew his limits, he knew his dreams—

 _(He was Thomas Hunt, youngest person to ever win the Best Director Award and it was his goal to make somebodies out of nobodies and release a new generation of jaw-dropping, breath-taking stars)._

—but since Jane—her passion, her endurance, _her_ dreams—he found himself questioning his decisions; if he had given up a little too early, if he shouldn't have retired as young as he did. If...

If...

 _If..._

Despite the similarities—because the similarities was what attracted him to her in the first place—Jane was no Marianne, no Priya, and no Yvonne. Only Jane with her quick wit, sharp tongue, and easy smiles could make him question himself. Only Jane could throw his entire world off balance until he didn't know right from left and up from down.

—only Jane—

—always Jane—

Fingers pausing over his knuckles, Thomas realized with sudden clarity that he had fallen too far and it would _only_ and _always_ be Jane. And _that_ —even beyond the sudden, obvious changes of his character, beyond the fact that he was now _questioning_ himself—was the scariest thought of all.


End file.
